The Famous Flower Of Serving Men
by SHGCat
Summary: A Dark Age-setting Wonder WomanBatman elseworlds based on an English ballad by the same name.ch 9 is up & running. please r
1. part 1

Title: The Famous Flower of Serving Men

Author: SuperherogirlCat (Cat Price)

Disclaimer: Don't own DC Comics. Never will.

Description: Wonder Woman/Batman elseworlds based on a traditional English ballad. So I guess it's a songfic. Wonder Woman/Trevor Barnes overtones at the beginning. 

Explanation: I went to see Elton John and Tim Rice's Aida, and told a friend that it would make a great Wonder Woman/Batman story. She jokingly said that I could turn anything into a Wonder Woman/Batman story. Later on, while listening to my Martin Carthy CD, she said that she'd found something I couldn't turn into a Diana/Bats fanfic; a traditional English ballad. This is to prove her wrong.

***

My mother did me deadly spite, for she sent thieves in the dark of the night

Put my servants all to flight. They robbed my bower, they slew my knight

They couldn't do to me no harm, so they slew my baby in my arms

And left me naught to wrap him in, but the bloody sheet that he lay in

They left me naught to dig his grave but the bloody sword that slew my babe

All alone the grave I made, and all alone the tears I shed

And all alone the bell I rang, and all alone the song I sang

I leaned my head all against the block and there I cut my lovely locks.

I cut my locks and I changed my name from Fair Helena to Sweet William

Went to Court to serve my King as the Famous Flower of Serving Men

So well I served my Lord, the King, that he made me his chamberlain

He loved me as his brother, then, the Famous Flower of Serving Men

And oft times he'd look at me and smile, so swift his eye I did beguile

And he blessed the day that I became the Famous Flower of Serving Men

But all alone in my bed I lay, and there I dreamed a dreadful dream

I saw my bed swim with blood and I saw the thieves all around my head.

Our King has to the hunting gone; he's taken no lords or gentlemen

He's left me here to guard his home, the Famous Flower of Serving Men

Our king he rode the wood all around, he stayed all they but nothing found

And as he rode himself alone it's there he spied the milk-white hind

Oh, the hind she broke, the hind she flew, the hind she trampled the brambles through

First she'd melt then she'd sound, sometimes before, sometimes behind

Oh what is this, how can it be, such a hind as this I ne'er did see

Such a hind as this was never born; I fear she'll do me deadly harm

And long, long did his great horse turn for to save his lord from branch and thorn

Oh, but long ere the day was o'er it tangled off all in his hair

All in the glade the hind drew nigh, the sun grew bright all in his eye

And he sprang down, his sword he drew, she vanished therefore from his view

And all around the grass was green, and all around there a grave was seen

And he's sat himself all on the stone, great weariness it's seized him on

Great silence hung from tree to sky; the woods grew still the sun shone high

As through the woods the dove he came and through the woods he's made his own

Oh the dove he sat down on the stone, so sweet he looked so soft he sang

"Alas the day my love became the Famous Flower of Serving Men"

The bloody tears they fell as rain and still he sat and still he sang

"Alas the day my love became the Famous Flower of Serving Men"

Our King cried out as the dove wept sore, so loud unto the dove he did call

"Oh pretty bird, come sing it plain…"

"Oh it was her mother's deadly spite for she sent thieves in the dark of the night

They come to wrong, they come to slay, they made their sport, they went their way.

And don't you think that her heart was sore as she lay the dirt on her husband dear

And don't you think your heart was woe as she turned her back, away to go. 

And now she wept as she changed her name from fair Helena to Sweet William

Went to court to serve her king as the Famous Flower of Serving Men." 

Oh the salty tears they lay all around, he's mounted up and away he's gone

And one thought's come to his mind, the thought of her that was a man.

And as he's rode himself along, a dreadful oath he there has sworn;

That he would hunt her mother down as he would hunt the wild wood swine

Oh there's four-and-twenty Ladies all and they're all playing at the ball

Oh, but fairer than all of them is the Famous Flower of Serving Men.

Oh he's rode in into his hall, and he's rode in among them all

He's lifted her to his saddle brim and there he's kissed her cheek and chin.

His nobles stood and they stretched their eyes, the ladies took to their fans and smiled

For such a strange homecoming no gentleman had ever seen.

And he has sent his nobles all, and to her mother they have gone

They told her that in such wrong, they'd lay her down in prison strong

And he's brought men up from the corn and he's sent men down to the ford

All for to build a bonfire high, all for to set her mother by

Oh, bonny sang the warning thrush from where he sat in yonder bush

But louder did her mother cry from the bonfire where she burned close by

And there she stood among the thorn, and there she sang her deadly song

Alas the day that she became the Famous Flower of Serving Men

Oh the fire took first all on her cheek and then it took all on her chin

It spat and rang all in her hair and then there was no life left in. 

-The Famous Flower of Serving men, a Traditional English Ballad as sung by Martin Carthy

Introduction: For the purposes of this story, I made Hippolyta evil, and altered the "Amazon Champion" story so that what really happened was that she ran away from Themyscira when she turned seventeen, unable to live with the Amazon's violent hatred of all men. 

Soon after, she met Traeverus Baron, a wealthy baron (thus the surname people had taken to calling him) who had migrated from Ethiopia and managed to overcome medieval prejudices to the point where his bravery and valor (not to mention his accumulated wealth) had earned him a place among the Briton's aristocracy. In the space of three years, the two fell in love, were married, and had a son. During that time, Diana put memories of Themyscira behind her, ready to start a new life with a partner who gave her love and respect and freedom, and she in turn stayed passionately devoted to.

Unfortunately, Diana's life of joy did not last. Her mother managed get wind of where she was. Furious that her daughter had forsaken a life with her and the Amazons for life with a man, she ordered a band of Amazons to storm the Baron's castle, killing everyone save Diana--everyone, including Diana's infant son.

Here begins her story… 

***

"No!!!" The shrill cry of the Baroness Diana cut through the air like a scythe. Two of the people she had once called sisters held her back with her own golden lariat while another drove her sword through the bare chest of her husband. His eyes widened in something akin to surprise and he strained to say her name as he reached for his horrified, struggling wife as his heart stopped beating. Diana gave a cry of rage and anguish that quickly turned to a plea for mercy as the unfeeling Amazon Captain lifted her son from his cradle. The coffee-colored child screamed and Diana felt her tears multiplying and she struggled doubly against the golden rope that held her. Her voice cracked as she begged them; "Oh, Hera please…If you have any feeling left in you, spare my baby…Goddess…don't take him away from me, too…" It was no use. Ignoring her pleas and cries, the Captain carefully pressed the razors-edge of the sword against the child's throat, permanently silencing his frightened cries. 

"No…Oh, Goddess, no…" The Princess sobbed as the lifeless bodies of her husband and son were kicked disdainfully aside as the Amazons departed, casting smirks and sneers at their former princess who-in their eyes- had betrayed them. 

It took her hours to struggle out of her bonds, but when she did, she just knelt there for a long moment, salt caked on her cheeks. Her own mother had done this…She knew that her mother had been furious when she'd left, and that she herself would never again be welcome on Themyscira, but…how could she be so heartless…. 

She rose and went to the bodies of her husband and son, closed their eyes. She kissed the bloody lips of her husband one last time, and cradled once more the little body of her son. Their deaths would be avenged. Hippolyta would _pay_.

***

It took her days to bury the bodies of her servants (which she did in the graveyard behind the church in the town that the Baron and she had been in control of), and her husband and son (in the glade in a nearby forest where she and Trevor had first kissed and where they had still spent occasional days reveling in the greenwood's undiluted silence). 

At last she had packed the last shovel full of dirt on the graves.

"Please, Great Goddess Persephone," she whispered, "Usher them safely into the Elysian Fields where they may dwell forever in bliss." She stood with her head bowed for another moment in silent prayer. A single tear trickled slowly down her cheek. Then she sighed and turned from the clearing. She could not storm Themyscira alone. She needed allies. She needed help. She knew what she had to do.

***

The next day, the former Baroness awoke at early dawn and dressed herself in men's clothing, using strips of cloth to bind her substantial breasts close to her chest. Heavy, leather-studded armor disguised her still unmistakably feminine form. She buckled her sword at her side and stood in front of the full-length mirror in the sizeable quarters that she and her husband had shared. This was the hard part. She unsheathed her boot dagger and held it in her hand for a moment, eyeing its steely glint. Its edge was honed sharper than the sharpest razor, and seemed to sparkle in the early-morning light that the tall, opened window let in. This was going to be difficult. 

Then, with a resolute gleam in her eyes, she drew the blade across her hair. After fifteen minutes of relentless shearing, her hair was cut in the fashion of men; shoulder length. She tied it back with a leather thong and shook her head. Reaching back to feel the place where her hair had once been. The sudden weightlessness was strange and disconcerting. 

A hat covered her head to partially obscure her feminine beauty. Then, leaving her home of five years, and the only two people who had ever meant anything to her, she rode in the direction of Gotham.

***

King Bruce of Gotham's Yuletide festival was famed for its length and crowds. It was the perfect opportunity to establish herself at court, Yuletide being he closest of the eight solstice and Equinox celebrations. Her ultimate goal was to impress the King himself with her prowess, and gain his trust as a loyal Knight. 

As she approached the castle gates, two Guards stood to bar her way. She suppressed a surge of nervousness. If she failed to fool the guards, she would fail at everything.

"Who comes!?" One demanded, brandishing his pike.

"Sir William of the Barony Sumurset," she cried back to the guards, deepening her voice. "Let me pass." 

The one who had spoken shifted his weight. "'Sir William', eh? Then 'ow come I've ne'er 'eard of ye?" "I know not, good sir, but I am here to rejoin Court for the Yuletide Celebration. I will not be denied." She unsheathed her sword. "Let me pass."

The castle guars both unsheathed wicked-looking broadswords. "Then ye'll 'ave tae fight yer way past," Growled the more talkative of the two. 

Diana leapt down from her charger and faced the two men fearlessly. "Very well, sirs." She attacked. 

The fight took all of fifteen seconds, during which she disarmed both of the guards and knocked them unconscious. She re-sheathed her sword and was about to mount her stallion and ride on when a voice lashed out of the shadows.

"Impressive." 

Diana whirled in the direction of the voice, her eyes narrowing. She was an Amazon, and it was consequently very difficult to sneak up on her. The man who stepped out of the lengthening shadows had done it, though.

She was tall, but he stood over her by at least two inches and looked taller by the way he carried himself. He had dark hair that was cut shorter than the norm and sharply chiseled, handsome features complemented the dark, and frightening look he carried. Brown-gray, piercing eyes stared intently at her, as if he was trying to see into her soul. He was dressed mostly in black; black tunic, black shirt, and black tights, with a cape of the deepest midnight-blue flowing down from his shoulders and snapping behind him in the evening wind like a living being. He was obviously a Knight—he had an extremely powerful, muscular build. Like a bear…no, not a bear. He was too agile and clever-looking for that. Like a cat…like a panther. 

She might have given herself away and asked who he was had she not seen the golden circlet on his brow.

"Your Majesty,' she bowed. He smiled. "Hail, Sir William," he stated in a voice that was as ominous as the leaves of tees rustling before a hurricane, and as soft. "You are as unknown to me as you are--perhaps I should say "were"? —To my guards. But any Knight who could have dispatched two skilled, trained guard as if it required no more effort than as a practice exercise…well, I would rather have you in my court than I would one of my enemy's." He tilted his head and stared at her for a moment, regarding her with unreadable eyes. "May I count you amongst my friends, William of Sumurset?"

Diana/William knelt and offered the King her sword. "You may, Majesty, and count my sword amongst those of your captains!"

There was a moment of silence and Diana was afraid he had caught her in her lie, then he smiled and the moment was past. "Rise, Sir William," He told her. She did. "Come," he smiled. "My hall has just sat to their meat. You may join us." He absently motioned for the new shift of guards to clear away the unconscious bodies of the former two. Diana nodded and followed him. "My thanks, Majesty. My thanks."

***

The King entered his hall with the enigmatic Knight next to him, and proffered him a place at his left at the great table that sprawled in the center of the hall. This came as a bit of a surprise to everyone, not to mention a juicy bit of gossip. Who was the strange, slender knight who sat who their King?

The man on the King's left wearing the sky-blue tunic and red cape frowned over at him. He looked at his King and friend and mouthed, "Who is he?" The King only mouthed "Ask him yourself" and continued his meal. After a moment the big man cleared his throat to get the Knight's attention and looked over at him. "Well, strange knight," he said. "I must admit, you have much of the high table confused. Our good king brings you to this hall as a guest, but none here knows your face. Pray, who are you?"

William straightened slightly and inclined his head in a slight bow. "I am Sir William of Sumurset, and come to this hall in friendship." "William of Sumurset, eh?" Questioned a man in an archer's uniform with blond hair and a beard. "I suppose you consider yourself a bold knight?" He ignored the glare the King sent his way. The slender, clean-shaven knight fixed Sir Oliver with an icy stare. "After a fashion, yes." he replied in a cold voice. The Archer guffawed. "You look about as bold and brave as a hillside flower!" he laughed. The king watched William go slightly pale at the insult and paid careful attention to see what he would do. The young knight with the night-sky-black hair, deep, exotic blue eyes, and eerily beautiful, strangely womanish features intrigued him. 

Suddenly, faster than his eye could follow, William had launched one of his throwing-daggers. It caught Sir Oliver's roguish, feather hat and knocked it off of his head. Another two daggers pinned the sleeves of his green outfit to the high-backed chair he sat in.

"Damn," He said dryly. "If I carried a fourth dagger, I could have killed him. Ah, well. Another time, perhaps."

There were a few seconds of silence, then suddenly; everyone at the table burst into raucous laughter. After a moment, even the bested Archer-Knight chuckled dryly as well.

"Well done, Flower of Serving men," he said good-naturedly, extricating himself from Sir William's daggers. "Well done indeed. You humble me with your skill." He passed the daggers back, hilt-first. "Only pray you never meet me on the archery range." The knight laughed. "I'll keep that in mind, good sir."

The King smiled. He liked this clever young knight.

***

Diana spent the next few weeks waiting for the Yuletide festival and establishing herself at court. It was easier, she reflected, to fit in to Patriarch's World as a man than it was to fit in as a woman. Since everyone thought she was a man, she was treated as an equal rather than as a subordinate. It was a refreshing change from the normal prejudices of everyday life in Gotham society. She took a place as one of the King's most skilled knights, and soon her name was as commonplace as Sir Oliver's or even Sir Clark's, the King's second-in-command.

So it was no unusual thing when she went to the training yard one day in the misty early morning when no one was awake yet to practice. She was often alone when she practiced, finding herself hard-pressed to find an opponent as skilled as she. She had first held a sword before she could walk, and was well versed with the weapon by the time she was seven, albeit only with a twenty-inch dagger; as she grew older she learned to handle short-and-longswords. 

She also trained alone because she often wanted time to herself; time to think, time to assess her situation at court, time to work on her plan. Also, a time to asses her growing friendships with the knights. 

Now, she unsheathed her eagle-hilted blade and began warm-ups and stretching exercises, then began her fighting sets. She had practiced these particular routines so many times that she was able to put her body through the motions while her mind wandered. She thought of the King of Gotham, of his steadfast loyalty to those he called friends. And yet…and yet, he always kept everyone, even those closest to him, at a certain distance. As if he never let anyone get too close. As if there was some arcane secret that he had; one that he told no one. She could not shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she did not hear the shadowy figure creep up behind her. Suddenly, the foot of the shadow lashed out and caught her squarely in the back of the knees. With a shocked yelp, she toppled to the packed-dirt floor of the training yard.

Furious she glared up at her assailant, only to see the king of Gotham standing above her, a slight smirk on his face.

"It is unwise to let your guard down so obviously." He began, before Diana/William lashed her own foot out and swept his ankle out from under him. He fell next to her, a priceless look of shock on his face. She fought hard to keep from smiling. "Aye, my king." She replied. "It *is* unwise." 

He smiled slowly. "Hmmph." He grunted, climbing to his feet along with her. "Well done. But do not think you'll get away with it more than once. For now, I am on my guard." He drew his sword.

It was an unmistakable challenge and Diana dropped easily into a combat crouch, sword in hand. "We shall see, Sire."

The two circled each other, both looking for openings. Suddenly, the king lunged. Diana parried and drove in, trying to use superior strength to her advantage, but the king slipped under her offense with uncanny agility. She barely managed to block his flurry of strikes. 

Diana struck and Bruce blocked, both of them testing the other's strength, swords inches from each other's faces, both straining to gain the upper hand. Then they broke away and circled once more. In a surprise move, the king brought his sword around in a hissing arc. Diana ducked low, the swing clearing the top of her head, but just barely. She swung her foot out to trip him, but he danced out of the way. 

She surged forward, thinking that an unrelenting offense would wear him down, but that was not the case. He met each of her blows solidly, then found an opening, lunged forward to drive the point of his sword towards her collarbone. 

It may well have worked, too, if Diana had not been conscious of what he might attempt bare milliseconds before the thought crossed his own mind. She bent nearly double backward, causing him to miss his target and overbalance. He stumbled forward and she darted out of his path and pounced, pinning him to the ground. That, too, may well have worked, if he had not been aware of what she might attempt seconds before the thought crossed her mind. He managed to bring his knee up hard into her solar plexus, causing her momentary, intense pain. In seconds, he had straddled her, pinning her under him, holding her wrists above her head with one hand. 

"You almost had me, Sir William." He said, breathing hard.

Diana pushed experimentally against him, but it was no use, his hold was too strong and well placed. She pushed harder, then suddenly froze, acutely conscious of the proximity of his body, the way his hips pressed into hers and his chest pushed against her own. She felt something deep inside of her tremble, but shoved the feeling away as best she could. She was fervently glad that she had the foresight to bind her breasts close to her body, or else this might very well have given her away. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks and prayed to the Goddess that he would assume it was simply because she'd overtaxed herself. "V-very well, my King." She managed to say in a relatively steady voice. "I yield."

He nodded and, to her undying relief, rose and stood away from her. "I must admit, for a moment I thought you would win." The king told her, wryly. Diana/ William forced a laugh. "Next time, Majesty, I shall." The King's rich laughter seemed to fill up a tiny bit of the aching emptiness that Diana had carried with her since the death of her husband and son. 

"I've no doubt of that, Flower of Serving Men." He said. Diana groaned at the moniker, which made him smile all the more. "Flower of Serving Men" had become her nickname since Sir Oliver had said it at the banquet. To many, it seemed appropriate because of her feminine look and appeal. She didn't think anyone actually suspected she was female, though.

The king made her promise to meet him the next day, early morning, for another sparring match. Diana/William agreed and bowed as the king took his leave of the courtyard. Once he was gone, the Flower of Serving Men slumped against a pole marred with countless notches from practice swings of the sword. 

She sighed. Despite the embarrassing situation, she had had an excellent workout. It had been a long time since someone had defeated her in a sparring match, and the experience was both humbling and interesting. She was apprehensive about their next sparring session, though. She'd never felt like that for any man but her husband, and feeling desire for someone else frightened her. 

(Well? What think you? This is a multiple part story, part two should be up within a couple of weeks. Please R&R. Thanks.)


	2. part 2

The Yuletide festival was nearly upon Gotham. 

It was six days before the festival itself, and the King prowled, sleepless and cagey, along the great wall that separated the castle from the surrounding villages. The night was bone-chillingly cold, but under woolen hose, a fleece-lined tunic, and a heavy leather cape, he hardly felt the temperature.

It was an ungodly hour of the night, but he was nonetheless restless. He'd chosen to walk outside because, near Yuletide, the castle interior always became crowded and smelly. Also because he loved the night. It was his element, where he felt most comfortable. It was a habit that bothered many people, and had earned him the nickname "The Bat" for his association to the nocturnal flying predator.

He breathed in the sharp wintry air and exhaled, watching the steam of his breath float away into the night. 

Suddenly, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. 

He crouched, slipping into the shadows, watching the figure move in the darkness. Then, as it passed, he pounced. The figure gave a startled cry and rammed its knee into his solar plexus. Hard. 

The breath exploded from his lungs and agony ripped through his body.

Bruce cursed inwardly and rolled to his feet, getting his first good look at the man sneaking around on the palace wall, hours past midnight. He saw his foe and abandoned his defensive stance, laughing raspingly.

"William, if you frighten me like that again, I'll kill you." 

The young knight sighed and shook his head, realizing who his attacker was. "Forgive me, my king. I did not expect to be _attacked _on a nighttime walk." The King took a few slow deep breaths to calm his buzzing nerves and to dissipate the pain that had shot up his spinal cord.

"I didn't expect to _meet_ with anyone on a nighttime walk." He replied. William sniffed and folded his arms. 

The King tilted his head. It was odd how…how incredibly feminine the Flower of Serving Men looked. It worked to his advantage, though. People underestimated him, let their guard down, and he struck like a thunderstorm.

He shook his head. Like he had during their second match. William had downplayed his strengths; he had become overconfident, and thus had ended up lying dazed in the dust at the feet of a smirking William. God, that had been embarrassing.

"Forgive me if I startled you," the knight continued. "The stench in the palace was becoming insufferable." The king nodded in agreement. 

"I notice you don't get cold very easily," He said, referring to William's thin shirt and simple trousers. 

"No, Your Majesty, I suppose I don't, " the Flower Of Serving Men replied vaguely. 

Then, changing the subject, "If you don't mind me asking, Majesty, what brings you outside in the dead of the night?"

"I like the dark." The monarch said simply. Without realizing it, he had begun to walk again, but no longer at a prowl. Sir William met his pace. 

"That doesn't tell me very much," he observed in his strangely soft, womanly voice.

The King frowned. "It's easier to frighten someone in the dark. Easier to surprise an opponent. Easier to hide from danger." "You don't strike me as one who would _hide_ from danger." He gave a predatory smile. "Only until I find a better moment to strike."

William's full lips curved into a sardonic smile. "I thought as much, Sire." Bowing, he steeped away from his monarch. "By your leave, Majesty, I will retire and leave you to your walk."

The king nodded. "Very well. Good evening, Sir William"

The knight in question bowed again, and slipped quietly into the darkness.

The King frowned. For a moment he thought he'd seen something in the way William had walked…but no. What he was thinking was ridiculous. Chuckling to himself, the King returned to his silent patrol of the castle wall alone.

***

__

The Night of the Festival Itself…

Diana sat in a corner of the Great hall and moped, nursing a goblet of white wine. She _hated _parties. With a passion. And it was even worse now that she was pretending to be a man. She was expected to act as every other man in the room; hopelessly drunk, self-centered, flirtatious to a fault, and about as intelligent as the average wagon wheel.

She glared sullenly over at the King. Well, _someone_ was surely enjoying _himself, _at the very least. 

The king held a goblet of wine in one hand, and the waistband of Countess Selina Kyle in the other. He was actively engaged in a vividly animated conversation with a group of other nobles. She rolled her eyes. The man who had had too much to drink and sounded so vapid she wanted to be sick was not the same man she'd spoken to -bare night's ago- on the palace wall.

As she watched the Countess practically drape herself across the King's body, she growled under her breath. For just a moment, she wished she could switch places with the countess, then shoved the thought away with a regretful and angry sigh.

She felt a pang of an emotion she wasn't used to feeling-- jealousy. She mentally berated herself for the feeling. She was not one of the weak, hapless palace women, incapable of doing aught but swooning in the arms of some noble with a drastically inflated ego. She was a warrior.

Such thoughts about him were not only foolish, but also unproductive and self-defeating. She and he would never be lovers, even if she'd let herself consider the idea, --after all, he didn't even know she was a woman--and besides, she had no business looking at the King with longing like some twittering castle ornament. In fact, if things went as planned, he would never even know that she was a woman. And, anyway, she still sometimes thought of her Traeverus…

She felt a little betrayed as she looked over at the king, whose hand was straying perilously close to the countess' neckline. She had thought that he was nobler than that. Had thought that he was different. She had evidently been wrong.

In a way it was too bad, and in another way it was for the best, and in yet another-the bitter part of her said- he deserved it. Or rather, he didn't deserve her…

"Sometimes it's almost as if he's two different people," mused a rich, deep voice from behind her.

She turned and saw the Lord of Kent, the same man in blue that had questioned her that first night in the palace--not to mention the fact that he happened to be one of the few non-intoxicated people in the room--, standing behind her. 

There was a look of faint disgust on his face as he watched the King. He absently swirled the contents of his wine goblet as he continued, "On the one hand you have a brave, unwaveringly loyal, skilled leader and ruler, and on the other hand you have…" He gestured to the King of Gotham, who was now laughing raucously at some nobles undoubtedly petty joke. "Well…you have…_him_."

"Is he usually this bad?" she questioned. Perhaps she'd been too hasty in her judgement of him.

"Sometimes. A few times, it's been even worse. But there are also the occasions he's been known to come to these gatherings and ignore everyone." He smiled at her, who he thought was a man. "Much like you are doing right now, in fact."

"I don't like banquets," She grumbled, sullenly, wishing immediately that he'd go away. They were having such a nice conversation, too. Until he brought up the subject of her.

"You aren't very social, are you?" He asked. 

"No." Was her snappish reply. 

Kent's lord laughed, genially. "Let me guess; you're shy around women." 

"You…might say that."

The Lord nodded. "Yes, I, myself, have been jealous of our good King and his numerous romances from time to time. And judging by the look on your face, you're fairly envious of him as well."

"Very perceptive," she murmured. And he was…he'd just confused the objects of her jealousy.

"Come," invited the Lord, rising. "I'll introduce you to the Lady Zatanna. She noticed you over here earlier, and you'll…Ahem, enjoy her company tonight, I believe."

Diana blushed. True, when she had been on Themyscira, there was a rather high level of inter-gender romance…but if someone was interested in her because they were under the impression that she was a man… That was _completely_ different.

"No, but thank you all the same," She muttered, staring at her feet. "I think I'll return to my chamber for the night _by myself_, if it's all the same to you."

The lord shrugged, slightly irritated by the young Knight's unwavering sulleness. 

"Suit yourself, Flower of Serving Men," He told her. "And enjoy the company of your wineglass."

She fought the urge to strike him before he left. Damn, it was harder to pretend to be a man than it seemed.

She gave one last look at the King, who was preoccupied with leading the Countess up the tall spiral staircase that sprawled in the corner of the great, vaulting Hall. They were heading in the direction of his bedchambers.

Dejected and angry, both with herself and with him, she turned trudged out of the Hall to her own chambers, alone.

***

The Next Day

The king sat in his quarters, his quill scratching out a message on a piece of heavy parchment. He had sent the message to Sir William requesting audience bare minutes ago, so he should be here…well, now.

There was a sound outside of the great ebony door to his chambers, and he pushed his parchment aside and got to his feet.

"Come!" he called. 

A slightly annoyed Sir William of Sumurset entered his room, wearing a long, sky-blue cape; a leather riding outfit, and soft, pure white gloves made from lamb's hide. 

He frowned at the sullen look on William's face. "I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your morning ride?" He'd forgotten that William sometimes took long rides that began at early dawn, which often lasted well into the morning.

"Yes, Your Highness, you did." 

The King tilted his head, slightly troubled by William's terse statement. The Knight was not usually this irritable.

"Forgive me. I have to ask you something. Most of my knights and nobles have their own fiefdoms to take care of, and very soon there will be precious few of them at court to defend Gotham, if need be. I'd like to know; are you planning on staying permanently, or will you be going home?" 

William looked as if he was caught off-guard at the question. It took him a moment to compose himself for an answer. "I'll be staying here at court." He said, finally.

"Good. You may continue your ride." He turned back to his papers, then again looked up at William as he thought of something. 

"Wait."

The Knight stopped and looked back at his King. 

"I know you were born in Sumurset, but you could not have been there your whole life and know all you do of this place--Sumurset is, after all, an independent Kingdom--so where did you come from?"

Oddly, William tensed at the question. "The Barony of Lord Traeverus," he said shortly, finally, and slipped out of the room before the King could stop him.

He sat down, perplexed by William's attitude. There was nothing amiss with hailing from Sumurset. Come to think of it, he hadn't received word from there in quite awhile. He'd ask if Kal had any news of Lord Trevaerus when he next saw him. Lord knew, the man could get there and back in _seconds_…

He returned to his parchment.

***


	3. Part 3

That Night, The Banquet Hall

At supper, Diana only picked at her meal. She was not hungry. She was too busy thinking about the earlier events of the day. She had been reminded of her home, and it did nothing but depress her. She thought bitterly that the King had a seeming knack for saying and doing the wrong thing, but that was unfair, especially when she was continuing to live a lie in front of the people she was growing to view as friends.

Speaking of the people she was coming to view as friends, there was no sign of Kal at the high table. She briefly wondered where he was, as he'd been present there every night since her arrival. It was nice to have him around, for (thanks mostly to his wife, and in part to senses far beyond the norm: superior even to her own) he knew everything about everyone. He was also very witty, and often amused her with whispered anecdotes during the times when toasts grew boring, or some nobles' speech became long-winded.

She didn't have to wonder for long, however. Just when she was giving a tiny smile of remembrance about one of his dry comments about the romantic life of Sir Oliver Queen, there was a blur and a rush of air, and he was standing in the middle of the hall, a look of sadness on his face.

"The Baron Treverus is dead," He announced. There were gasps from the hall, and Diana cringed inwardly. She'd already known that, but hearing it so publicly announced hurt. 

"He was killed weeks ago, with his wife and child." I was shown their graves myself." He hung his head. 

The King rose. "_Who_?" The word exploded from his mouth in a hiss.

"I don't know, my Lord." Kal said. "Nor did _anyone_ seem to." 

Diana rose. "_I_ know." She began, sensing the perfect chance, but she was interrupted when her sensitive ears caught the whisper of one squire to another.

"It's a good thing that the damn ogre's dead, too…" He said, using the cruel nickname that simple-minded folk had given to her husband, simply because of his dark skin. Oh, Goddess, she was tired of this! Tired of pretending, tired of putting up with overheard taunts that weren't meant to offend, but cut her to the quick regardless. Tired of men's arrogance, tired of useless prejudices… And, as it had been threatening to do since she had first arrived, the tiredness gave way to anger.

Rage overtook her and she was at the end of the High table in seconds. She had the squire by his throat and raised him above the ground, her eyes filled with unspeakable anger.

"You…_dare_!" She snarled. The squire, obviously frightened out of his wits, clawed at her arm, and tried to speak, choking on the words.

"William!!" The King's voice snaked out into the air, cracking with the force of his order. 

"Release him at _once!!" _

Diana turned to face the King, her eyes blazing, her teeth clenched. He met her gaze levelly, not backing down so much as an inch. 

"I_ said _release him, William."

Diana slowly lowered the gasping squire to the ground, her eyes never leaving the king's own.

His face was contorted with barely controlled anger. 'Outside. _Now."_ He hissed, angrily.

She stared straight ahead as she exited the great hall, following the King out to the cavernous corridor. 

"What in hell did you think you were doing!?" He shouted at her once they were out of earshot. "How dare you attack one of my officers so blatantly?! Even with such cause as he gave? I mourn his loss, and I know he was your Lord--"

"He was more than just my Lord!!!" She cried, angrily. "He was my…he was more like my brother! How dare you presume to deny me that vengeance--"

"I know what it means to defend family!" He yelled back at her. "But when you are in _my_ palace, you _will_ control yourself!"

For a moment she felt like hitting him, then stopped, visibly controlling herself. She took a deep breath and let the walls slam shut over her eyes, blocking all emotion from her face.

"Very well, your Majesty." She said tensely, then turned immediately and began stalking off, but he stopped her.

"Damn it, William, wait a minute!" He said, exasperated. She turned back to him, her jaw tense.

"Yes, sire?" She ground out.

"What were you going to say?" He questioned. This caught her off guard. What did he mean?

"I know not what you mean." She said. He sighed, and the exasperated tone annoyed her even further.

"Before you were…interrupted, you said 'I know...' What did you mean?" He asked. She tilted her head. Goddess, the man missed absolutely nothing, did he? 

"I know who killed them," She said slowly. His eyes widened, then narrowed. 

"Who?" He demanded. "Why did you not say in the Hall? Who!?"

"You act as if you truly care, my Lord!" She snapped, viscously, anger overcoming her once more. She didn't even try to stop the words as they spilled from her mouth. "And why should you? He was only, as that obscene squire said, an _ogre_…!"

"How DARE you!" He said, raising his arm as if to strike her. She stood fast, making no move to defend herself, but neither was she backing down. The King took a deep breath, then slowly lowered his arm and took a step back from her. "The Baron was my fiend," He growled. 

"I gave him all the respect due to one of his station, and more besides for his intelligence and bravery. I hold no stock by the color of a man's skin. I warn you; insult me not that like that once more. I have killed men for less."

Diana sighed and lowered her head. "Forgive me, your Majesty. I…I did not think." She looked up at him. "I was angry at the words of that young bastard in the hall. I meant not to take it out on you."

The King slowly nodded, recognizing the apology. "Who killed him?" he asked. "I must know. He was my friend."

Diana met the eyes of her King. "Did you know his wife?" She asked, and was surprised how easily the words slipped from her mouth. Once more, she was sure how events would progress. Reminder of her plans for revenge gave her the strength to lie.

"No." Bruce replied. "I never met her. He spoke of her often, though. As I understand, she was very beautiful. She was an Amazon, was she not?"

Diana nodded, secretly pleased at the complement. "Aye. I…spoke to her a few times. She left The…the island home of the Amazons when she could no longer stand their isolationist and extreme ways. She ran away, she met Treverus…" Diana took a breath. "…And the Amazons found her. They killed her husband, and her son…along with her."

"And where were you when all of this transpired?" He asked, an ever so slightly suspicious tone in his voice. Diana was prepared for this. She had painstakingly gone over every detail of her story in her mind. She was prepared for any possible question that he could ask. 

Still, the utter ease with which she told him the falsehoods left a guilty, bitter taste in her mouth.

"When the Amazons attacked, the entire household was unprepared. I tried to attack them, to protect the Baron and his family, but they overpowered me. One of them knocked me unconscious. I suppose they took me for dead. When I awoke, my Lord and his wife and son were dead. I learned the story from palace servants, and from what I myself could gather." She stared up at the King, unflinchingly. "Then I came here. You know the rest.

The King gave her a steady stare for a few moments. "Damn it, why did you not tell me sooner?" He asked, but there was no venom to his voice. 

"And how would you react, Majesty, if a knight you had never seen before suddenly rode to your gates and told you that Amazons had killed one of his Barons?" She asked. The king gave her a small smile.

"You're right, I suppose." He said. They stood for a moment in the hall, and the silence seemed suffocating.

"Come." The King said, at last. "Let's return to supper. They will, I suppose, be wondering what has become of us."

"Wait!" Cried Diana, dismayed. "Will you not avenge your Baron? Are you simply going to ignore his death?" The king gave her a frustrated look.

"What would you have me do, William? No man knows where the island of the Amazons lies. If I did, I would go there and avenge my friend in seconds. But what would you have me do? I cannot avenge someone if I know not where their enemies are."

Diana heard the anger and frustration in his voice and slowly nodded, cursing herself. Every detail, hmm? Damn it, she _hadn't _thought of everything. She could tell him where the island was. But not without giving herself away. Dear Goddess, what next? Would she never be able to avenge her husband? Damn her overconfidence…


	4. part 4

Famous Flower Of Serving Men Part Four

The King of Gotham slammed his fist into the vaguely man-shaped padded dummy on the practice courts. It had been three days since the news of Baron Treverus' death had been revealed and he was still furious. It had to be, he reflected, the most horrible things that a man could go through; to lose a friend and be unable to claim revenge on those who had wronged him. 

He sighed and stared over at William, who was sparring with Clark. And winning. He could see the anger in the other mans movements, the rage that was barely controlled beneath the surface. The King came to the sudden realization that, no matter how angry he was his rage was absolutely nothing compared to William's.

He stopped his fervent punches, and walked over to the two dueling friends, making sure not to get too close. 

William brought his sword up and twisted it around Clark's, trying to disarm him. The bigger man evaded his attack, but just barely. Both combatants were breathing hard, and he could see sweat beading on Clark's forehead. Soon it would drip in his eyes, rendering him unable to see. At this realization, Clark attacked in earnest, using brute force to drive William back. While the smaller man himself to lunge, Clark tried to take the time to swipe his hand over his forehead, but William was too quick. 

With a spinning high kick that connected solidly with his chin, Clark found himself in the dust, a boot on his chest pinning him to the ground, and the point of William's magically sharp sword at his throat.

"That was a stupid move," William growled, sheathing his sword. "I wouldn't try that again, were I you." With that he turned and strode off, promptly running into the king. 

"Hello." Bruce stated. 

William stared up at him for a long moment, then executed a stiff bow.

"My King." He said, rigidly, trying to slide past his ruler. Bruce, however, was not about to let that happen.

"Oh, no you don't," He half growled, grabbing William's arm, stilling him. "I need to talk to you." 

William tilted his head in that…_way_ he had. "Of course, your Highness." He said neutrally.

The king led the knight through the admittedly puzzling maze of the palace corridors until they reached his private chambers. They entered and he locked the door. 

"Sit." He gestured to one of the several rough-hewn chairs that surrounded a circular table. William sat and Bruce sat across from him.

"I have an assignment for you." He said. William raised an eyebrow. 

"You're sending me on a quest?" The slender man asked. The King shook his head. 

"Not exactly." He replied slowly. "You see, occasionally, I'll go on an all day trip, and completely disappear. I like to be by myself on occasion. Unfortunately, Clark doesn't really understand my need to be alone. I need a…a chamberlain of sorts, someone who will fill in my duties when I'm away. You, my friend, have already shown a tremendous gift for leadership. I'd like you to take that position."

William looked shocked. Never in a thousand lifetimes would he expect the King to honor him like this. Slowly, he rose to his feet.

"I would be honored, your Highness." He said. The King smiled.

"Good." He replied. "Oh, and, please do me this favor? Clark must not know when I m to be…absent. He is terrified of assassination attempts." 

William smiled. 

"Do not worry, my friend." He said. "I won't breathe a word." 

"Good." The king said. The two began to walk out, but suddenly the king stopped.

"William?" He asked.

"Yes?" The knight replied. The king smiled slowly. 

"I do believe I am winning you over, William." He half-smirked. "After all, even knowing you for a relatively short time, I know you enough to realize that you don't simply call just _anyone_ 'my friend'." With that he clapped the knight on the shoulder and strode down the hall.

***

Damn him, Diana thought. That was the last time she ever spoke in his presence without thinking.

***

Authors Notes: Ta-daa! Updated. All grammatical errors have hopefully been taken care of. Having just gotten over a severe bout of writers block, I shall post the next chapter soon. I promise!

Thanks for your patience

-cat


	5. part 5

Famous Flower Of Serving Men Part Five

((That same night, the bedchamber of William/Diana))

Diana slept fitfully that night. At first she could not sleep at all, and spent several hours tossing and turning before, finally, finding a comfortable position. At last she dozed off restlessly, but awoke bare hours later, gasping in fright, biting her lip to keep herself from screaming out loud. Tears of anguish were streaming freely down her face. Her dream had been plagued by visions of her mother and her son. She remembered very little of the nightmare, except for her infant's cries and that there was blood everywhere, on hr hands, on her bed, and that her so-called sisters were there to kill her... 

Diana sat with her knees tucked under her chin for a long time, shivering, though her room was warm, and the fire had not yet completely burned down. At last, calmer, she lay down again, trying to fall asleep once more, and eventually succeeding. 

Several watch-cries later, she sat bolt upright in bed, awakening with a start from an entirely different sort of dream. She could still almost feel the lingering touch of his fingertips, could almost taste his lips on her own, touch his body as he enfolded her in his arms… 

Hera damn the man: did thoughts of the King have to plague her sleep as well as her waking moments?!

Sighing, she stood up and forced herself through several sets of stretches, trying to take her mind off of Bruce, but the attempt was completely unsuccessful. She could not get him out of her thoughts. After awhile, she gave up and walked over to the large window on the south wall of her chambers. She sat on the stone ledge, the chill in the air not bothering her, and stared out into the night. 

Why, she wondered absently to herself, am I so against having these feeling for the King? It is not as if he is a cruel man… And he is certainly handsome enough… Then, she shook her head to dispel such thoughts. He did not even know that she was a woman. She was living a lie in front of him, and when she revealed herself, he probably would not forgive her deception. 

She was riddled with guilt for having to lie to him…having to lie to all of them, really; Kal, Oliver, Arthur…but especially Bruce. Especially the King. Diana rested her cheek against her curled fist, sighing as a single tear coursed its way down her cheek. She had found friends in this place where she had only hoped to find allies…and she was doing nothing but deceiving them and betraying them. She didn't even deserve to speak their names…

"I'm sorry." She whispered into the chill of the night air. "Bruce…everyone…I'm sorry…please, please forgive me..."

***

((The Next Day-Midday))

Bruce, mounted upon Batwing, his favorite steed (a midnight-black gelding who used to be a racer) galloped thunderously along his favorite woodland hunting trail. He had been there most of the morning, but so far had had little luck: a few small squirrels and a hare. He supposed he had been asking for it; it was not a bountiful hunting season. Still, he had to get out of the palace. He hated being cooped up for long periods of time, and the confinement of the palace walls had been grating on his nerves for far too long. He was glad to get out, though he knew that William was probably having to physically restrain Kal from going after him. He grinned to himself. His old friend was far too paranoid.

He slowed Batwing to a walk, stopping to enjoy the quiet scenery of the Gotham Forest in winter. Then, he stopped the horse, suddenly. Staring at him, from between two snow-covered trees, was a gorgeous white doe. A hind.

Carefully, trying to make his little noise as possible, he pulled an arrow from his quiver…and the hind bolted. Bruce kicked Batwing into a gallop, following the ghostlike deer at almost breakneck speed. Suddenly, she disappeared. Bruce reined his horse to a stop. Where in hell…

The hind broke from the bushes behind him, rearing silently and pawing the air with hooves of an impossibly silver hue that glinted razor-sharp in the midday sun. Bruce gave a yell of shock and squeezed his knees into Batwing's sides. The horse, however, needed no encouragement and raced off on it's own. That was no normal deer, and his horse could sense it as well as Bruce himself could. 

Batwing was agile and fast, but he could not totally avoid the branches and brambles that entangled in his master's hair. 

Bruce rode hard for a long time, the strange hind sometimes racing behind him, sometimes running ahead. It seemed clear, though, that she was leading him…or driving him…somewhere. 

There was little doubt in his mind that this was no ordinary hind. The pure-white color for one, and the silvery hooves for another. He had never seen a creature like it.

Each time he tried to veer of the path the hind was driving him, she was there, in front of him, keeping him on the same trail. Each time he slowed or tried to turn around, the doe was behind him, flailing razor-sharp hooves, driving him forward again. 

He rode like this for what had to be hours, until he was sore from riding and panting with thirst, and sweat flew from Batwing with each time his hooves struck the frost-hard earth.

At last, they reached a clearing, and the hind stopped. Just like that, she stopped, standing perfectly still, fixing him with an impenetrable gaze from her deep, dark eyes. Bruce reined Batwing to a clumsy halt, feeling the huge breaths the horse was taking as they stretched the straps of his saddle. He could hear the panting of his beloved animal, and his jaw tightened angrily. 

Furiously, Bruce leapt down from Batwing's saddle, drawing his longsword and advancing, confronting the oddly calm, utterly unmoving hind, which did not seem exhausted in the least.

Just then, the sun moved from behind a cloud, shining directly into his vision. By the time he had cleared the color-spots from his eyes, she was gone, leaving no sigh she had ever been there, not even a hoof print in the earth.

Bruce looked around. He had no recollection of this place, and that was not good. The hind could have taken him miles from his palace, and he had lost all sense of direction. Suddenly, he realized that something was wrong. The air was unusually warm, for winter, and patches of grass peeked through the ground. If he didn't know better, he would swear it was spring…

He glanced into the wood to see if the seasons had changed without him realizing it, but no… Where the clearing's boundaries ended, the wood became merely a bunch of snow-covered trees, as it should be in winter. He shivered, despite the warm air. He should not be here. He was about to mount Batwing and leave the clearing, when he saw the graves. They were nothing elaborate, simply two small mound of earth with large stones at their heads. He walked over to the graves and knelt before them, paying his respects silently. He knew not who was buried there, but it seemed only fitting to pay homage to the dead.

Just then, a small white dove alit on one of the gravestones, cocked its head and stared at the king. 

"It's the wrong season for you, songbird." Bruce said absently. Then, as an afterthought, and a bit of a joke, asked jokingly, "I don't suppose _you_ know whose graves these are?"

The dove opened his beak and let out a clear trill. Unusually clear. At first it sounded like regular birdsong, but once he listened for a moment, there were what sounded like words beneath the avian trill.

"Alas the day my love became 

The Famous Flower Of Serving Men."

To Bruce's shock, the dove began to cry, red tears streaming from its eyes. Still, it raised itself up and sang the eerie song again.

"Alas the day my love became 

The Famous Flower Of Serving Men."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked the bird. He felt ridiculous, speaking to a thrush, but it obviously spoke of William. Perhaps this was the time to see if he could unravel Some of William's Past.

The bird cocked its head and spoke to her, in a clear, deep voice that Bruce could almost recognize.

"You call her William, but that is not her name."

"Her?" Bruce asked.

The bird chirped. "Her. She. The one you call the Flower of Serving Men. Have you never wondered why William is lovelier than any of the women in the palace? Or why 'his' voice was so high?"

"Who is she then?"

"When I was alive, she was my wife. Then her mother came and killed me. And our son." The bird let out a mournful trill. "Came and killed us in the night, my wife cut her hair and changed her name: Once it was Diana, now she calls herself William, and serves you as the Famous Flower Of Serving Men."

Suddenly, the pieces clicked together in the King's head. Diana was the wife of the Baron Treverus. She had not kept the fact that she knew who killed the Baron to herself out of fear; she had kept it to herself because she wanted no one to guess that she was a woman.

The bird hopped over to Bruce, and buried its head in his palm.

"Tell her to stop grieving, my King." It said. "Tell her I know she loved me, but she cannot go on as she is now."

"As you wish, old friend," Bruce responded. The bird chirped, happily, and alit off of his hand, flying off into the trees.

Bruce stood up. At last, things were just beginning to make sense with William. He cursed under his breath. Damn him--her! He'd thought he was falling for a damned stripling knight.

Batwing's hooves thundered against the earth, as he made his way back to the palace. Inexplicably, he knew where they were. Just as oddly, they were not far. He remembered riding out earlier in the day farther away from the palace than they were now. Bruce, however, was not a man to question the workings of magic.

***

~ authors notes ~

And the fifth installment is…done! The next one will be up soon, too. I hope. Peace out,

cat


	6. part 6

The Famous Flower of Serving Man Part Six

((Back at the palace…))

Diana leaned against the wall of the palace, arms crossed over her bound chest, smiling. She was watching many of the palace women as they played at some kind of sport with a leather ball. The sounds of laughter drifted from the frost-covered field. Her smile grew a little sad. In a way this reminded her of her sisters, back home on Themiscira… Oddly, she missed the camaraderie of other women. Having male friends was all god and well, and she hated her sisters for what they had done to her, and yet… And yet she missed their companionship.

Her sensitive hearing picked up the faint sound of frantic hoof-beats, snapping her out of her reverie. She turned in the direction of the noise, squinting and shading her eyes. She vaguely recognized the form of the King's favorite horse, Batwing. So he was returning. Hmm. It was sooner than she had expected, but it was just as well. Kal had been ranting about his disappearance since this morning, and it was beginning to be irksome.

She lounged against the stone wall, watching him. It wasn't until he was seconds away from her that she realized that he wasn't slowing down. Without waning, he wheeled Batwing around when he was but inches from her, reaching down in a fluid movement and grabbing her waist, pulling her up to his saddle brim. She was too shocked to resist as he pressed her body against his and lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that was so fiercely passionate that it bordered on ravishment.

The courtyard around them grew deathly silent, but if Diana even noticed, she did not have the slightest care.

After a long moment, the King pulled away from her, breathing hard.

"You," He whispered, "have much to explain." 

Slowly, Diana lowered herself shakily to the earth. Dimly, she heard Kal let out a startled cry and demand an explanation.

She sighed and turned to the by-now-comprehensive gathering.

"It…I suppose I had to tell you some time," she said awkwardly into the silence of the winter air, abandoning all pretense of keeping her voice sufficiently low. 

"Though I had…I had hoped it would be under different circumstances." She sighed, then went on. "I am a woman."

The statement was greeted by dead silence for a moment. Someone gave a halfhearted chuckle. It did nothing to lessen to lessen the air of dumbfounded shock that radiated from the group.

"My name is Diana." She continued then paused for a moment, mentally forming what to say. "I was the wife of Baron Treverus. My mother, the Amazonian queen, was the one who killed him." She looked around, meeting the eyes of every nobleman in the courtyard, unashamed. "I am truly sorry for having to deceive all of you. It was the only way I saw to avenge my husband." Without a word, she turned and walked into the palace, leaving a stunned and shocked silence behind her.

***

The king stood on the balcony that connected to his chambers, gripping the railing, his face stony. He was brooding on Wi--Diana. Good Lord, he didn't even know what to call her.

He was still stinging from the knowledge of her betrayal, still angry at her secrecy, and, in a strange way, angry with himself for not figuring it out sooner. How had she looked him in the eye and called him 'friend' while keeping the secret of her very identity from him.

He heard someone walk behind him on the balcony, and he knew who it was without even looking.

"Kal," He acknowledged. He knew that Kal had been talking to W…Diana for the last few hours. Out of all of them, he was the closest to her. He didn't even seem particularly fazed by her announcement, which made the King wonder if he hadn't known all along.

"Bruce," Kal replied, standing next to his king, silent for a long moment, before commenting, "She never meant to hurt you."

Bruce let out a barely perceptible growl. "I'm not…_hurt._ I'm angry."

The Lord of Kent snorted. The king could shield his emotions from most people, but Kal had known him too long.

"As you say, Your Highness," he replied, facetiously. Then, after another moment of silence, "She did what she believed to be the right thing."

The king snorted. "And that entailed hiding her identity from the ones who trusted her?" He sneered, angrily.

"Yes," Kal replied. His friend sighed, frustrated. 

"She deceived us!" He snapped.

"Do you think she enjoyed lying to us," He asked. "Do you think she was not tormented by her own secrecy?" The king was silent for a long moment.

"I don't know what to think." He said at last, quietly.

"Than perhaps you should speak to her," Kal snapped. "I'm certainly not getting through to you."

The King turned to his longtime friend, a spark of curiosity in his gaze. 

"What do you mean?" He asked.

Kal regarded him with a level gaze. "You don't realize it do you?" He asked, softly. Bruce's temper snapped. 

"I don't realize _WHAT_, Kal!? What aren't you saying? Stop dancing around it and just tell me!"

His friend looked at him for a moment then shook his head sadly. "You truly don't see it do you? Even after you kissed her." The king bristled.

"I wanted to be sure she was female." He growled. Kal snorted. 

"Indeed. But did she react to you in any way?"

Bruce thought a moment. "Yes. She returned the kiss. Why is that of any importance?"

Kal shook his head and spoke slowly, "She cares for you, Bruce. She may be falling in love." 

With that, he turned and strode away from the balcony, leaving the king standing in the cold air, alone once more, with a fresh battery of thoughts to brood over. He sighed, defeated. Maybe…maybe speaking to Diana would be the best thing to do. Slowly, he turned and began to make his way to her chambers.

***

Authors notes: I'm finally done! Yay! Many thnks to Noah for helping me out. This chapter was brought to you by the rather questionsble musical tastes of Cat Price (The October Project, High Tea, Steeleye Span, R.E.M, Avalon, Emerald Rose and Dagda), two Mocha Brownie Frappaccinos, a Writer's Chai, and several hours of random brainstorming. BTW: Prepare for Brice and Diana to get a little….closer in the next chapter….hint hint…..^_^


	7. Part 7

((authors notes: Woo hoo!! This Chapter's done! And, after a several-month-long hiatus I am back! Without a vengeance! This Ch. Was brought to you by Adam Ant, Novus Canticus, No Doubt, The Goo Goo Dolls, Fleetwood Mac, Moxie Fruvous, and countless more examples of my questionable taste in music. Special Thanks to Noah, for just being there, and to Gamma Xmen for intelligent conversation, informing me of the upcoming JLA 90, and listening to me vent my frustration.))

Diana heard the knock at her door and turned toward the sound, seriously contemplating not answering it. The knock came again, more insistent this time, and Diana sighed, stood up, feeling tired. She walked over to the heavy ebony door and pulled it open.

She wasn't sure precisely whom she had been expecting to be standing there--Kal, maybe, or even Kyle--but it certainly wasn't the King.

Her eyes were wide in surprise for a split second before she schooled her face into a mask of unemotion. 

"My Lord," She bowed. "Come in." She made way for him and he swept past her with the serious manner only he could affect, his black cape billowing behind him.   
He stood in the center of the room, and she was struck with the thought that he was uncomfortable. She quickly dispelled that errant thought. The word uncomfortable was more than likely not in his vocabulary.

"Sit down," She offered, and waited until he did so to do so herself. She sat rigid, her back upright, her body tense. She wasn't sure quite what to expect.

Their chairs were across from one another, and Diana crossed her legs uncomfortably, suddenly acutely aware that she was wearing only a short, linen, sleeping tunic.

She kept her eyes on his face, but he remained silent. 

"Did you…need something, Your Majesty?" Diana ventured at last.

"Why did you lie to me?" He asked abruptly. Diana was slightly taken aback.

She sighed, folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. She stayed like this a moment, wondering how to answer.

"It was the only way." She said softly, but with an air of firmness. She then looked up at him. 

"You didn't think I would have helped you if I had known you were a woman?" He asked.

She looked him straight in the eye.

"Exactly," She said. His lips thinned.

"If you had come to me at first, told me the truth, I would have helped you." Diana leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. Who was he to judge her motives?! How dare he?

"It was hard enough to gain your trust as a man, Your highness, so please respect my intelligence and don't tell me it wouldn't have been twice as hard had you known I was a woman!"

She watched his jaw clench. "I--" he began, but she interrupted him. 

"No. It's my turn. Listen to me, Your Majesty. Would you have accepted me into your confidence had you known I was a woman?"

"No, but--" He began.

"Oh!" She stood up and began to pace. "Well then would you have given me a seat at the High Table if you had known I was a woman?"

"I hardly see how this--"

"Would you have trusted me, accepted me, had you known I was a woman?!"

"It has nothing to do with--" He began again, but she interrupted him yet once more.

"Answer the question!"

He very nearly lost his temper, but by some miracle managed to keep it in check.

"No," He replied his voice steely.

"Ah. Well, then what about my position as your chamberlain? I don't suppose that would be in effect either?"

He was silent.

"It is a simple question, Your Majesty!" She said.

"No," He said again.

"Well," Diana's voice was almost sad, but mostly bitter. "Well then I suppose that tells you why I don't think you would have helped me."

He stood up, and she was once again reminded that he was taller than she was. Slowly he advanced toward her, his eyes hidden in shadow

When he was a few feet from her, he stopped. His voice was soft as he spoke. "You're right." He said. "You're absolutely right. I would not have trusted you as much. Neither would many of my court." He sighed. "It's just that…It hurt, when I knew you had lied."

Diana looked away from his eyes. "How did you know, anyway?" She asked, her voice more subdued. Bruce gave a sigh that was part chuckle and, hesitantly, with the ill grace of one who is not a practiced storyteller, relayed the events that happened in the woods.

"…That's how I knew it was you." He could tell by her expression that she believed him. "Trevor was…a good friend of mine. And if he thought so highly of you that he had to come back and tell you that he loved you one last time…Then I truly don't see how you could ever have meant to hurt or betray any of us." His voice was surprisingly gentle, and had lost much of it's typical gravelly tone. Her eyes had tears in them as she looked up at him. He was…so handsome.

"You…you seemed perfectly ready to accuse me this afternoon." Diana said, unwilling to let a few sweet words take away her anger. Although to be sure, he did look very sorry…

He smiled at her, soft and genuine. "I was still in shock over the fact that you were--are a woman," he replied.

"You didn't seem to be in shock when you kissed me." She replied without thinking, and instantly regretted it.

His smile widened, almost imperceptibly, and he reached across the distance between them to touch her face.

"I was simply glad to realize that I didn't have a preference for men after all." He said softly.

Diana tried, unsuccessfully, not to smile.

Wit liitle warning, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers, for a second only. Wide-yed, she looked up into his eyes, and realized it was one of the biggest mistakes she'd ever made. His gaze, full of crushing longing, swept over her. He pulled her close, brushing a thick strand of her hair out of her face with trembling fingers.

"My Lord..." Diana whispered. "I…"

"Shhh." Bruce gently laid a finger across her lips. "My name is Bruce," he insisted quietly, and kissed her.

***

fin

BTW: I'm not sure if I should continue this story. It could end here or I could write on. Either way's okay with me, but someone sent me an email telling me that it was getting "monotonous". I won't say who cause I'm nice like that, but email me and tell me wheather or ton I should continue this. Thanks. -Cat


	8. part 8

Notes: Done at last. Yes, many of you thought I was going to just quit and leave it where it was! 

Not so. I think I received two emails from people telling me that they didn't like it, and

something like thirty-five emails telling me I should continue it. *Preen preen* Ahem. 

Anyway. This should have been done long ago. It wasn't, and for that I apologize

profusely. There was a house fire and my computer died. I lost all my notes and chapter

outlines and I'm basically having to recreate everything from scratch. So if the style is

different or everything is not-quite-seamless, please bear with me. I PROMISE I'll finish

this. And it's actually kind of fun to recreate it and tweak it a bit. But I'm keeping you

from the story, aren't I? Agk! Don't get distracted by me! Go on, Read it!

Enjoy,

SuperherogirlCat A.K.A. Cat Price

Chapter Eight

Dawn light from the east spilled through the cracks in the tightly-shuttered window in

Diana's room, illuminating the two figures on the bed.

Diana stirred and sat up, stretching. She was momentarily startled when two strong hands

gently gripped her waist and drew her back down to the bedclothes.

She smiled softly and nestled closer to the King of Gotham, in whose arms she lay. "Good

morning," He whispered.

For a long moment she was content merely to lie there in the circle of his embrace and feel

loved, but too soon, all too soon, her mind caught up with her emotions. Damn it. She could not do

this.

Firmly, she pushed away from him and retrieved her tunic from where it lay, forlorn and

discarded on the floor by the bed. It was not much, but it covered her. She pulled it on. 

The King of Gotham propped himself up on one arm. 

What's the matter," He asked. His voice held a touch of concern.

"Nothing, My Lord King," She responded tersely.

"Diana," His voice was firm. She glanced over only to find him standing directly behind

her.

Gods, he could be silent as a cat when he wished it.

"How can you call me 'Lord King' after what happened last night?" He demanded.

Diana walked over to the carved hardwood wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room

and opened it. She surveyed it's contents and selected a pair of buckskin legging. She pulled them

on, carefully not looking at him.

"Last night..." She met his eyes and took a breath, the words hard to say. "...was a mistake. 

My Lord. It meant nothing." The lie came too easily to her lips. She hated herself for telling it.

She turned away from him.

"Diana!" He hissed her name out, angry. "Look at me!"

The last thing she wanted to do was look at him. She did it regardless, her expression stony. 

Icy blue eyes met grey ones that sparked with anger and hurt.

"How can you say that?" He demanded. "How can you stand there and look me in the eye

and tell me that last night meant nothing? How can you stand there and- -"

"Because!" She shouted angrily. "Because I cannot handle this, Bruce! Because my

husband is dead and my child was killed and my one chance of saving them depended on my

disguise and I believe we both realize how well that succeeded! 

"Last night resolved nothing! Not my grievance with my people, and not your grievance

with me for deceiving you. And I regret having done that, My Lord King. I regret that more than

you can possibly imagine. But that does not change the fact that last knot happened too soon, too

abruptly...if indeed it should have happened at all." 

She sagged against the wood of the wardrobe, closing her eyes. She would not cry.

"It was a mistake." She said each word slowly and carefully, trying to convince herself as

well as him. It took effort, but she looked into his eyes. 

"Last night should not have happened."

His face looked as if it was set in stone. The silence stretched palpably between them like a

living thing.

"Very well," he said at last, his voice neutral. 

She watched as he gathered his fallen clothes and dressed in silence. She wanted to tell him

to wait, don't, stop, anything to take back the lie she'd told him, the hurt her words must have

caused. She did not trust herself to open her mouth.

He walked to the door, then turned back. Hope flared briefly in her then dimmed as all he

said was;

"I am calling a meeting of the greater nobles later to discuss the matter of your husband. It

would behoove you to attend."

Then he was gone.

Diana slid to the floor, folded her arms over her knees, and buried her face in them.

Last night had not been a mistake. Last night had been...wondrous. Wondrous and

beautiful and full of promise. Last night had not meant nothing. Last night had meant everything;

hope, awakening, love, even, and a new beginning. For her and perhaps even for him.

But she could not afford to give him that. It was not fair to either of them.

For she intended to go to Themyscira. She intended to avenge her husband and son. She

intended to kill her mother.

And for that, she intended to die.

***

Special Thanks To:

Mr. Charles Berlin, The Great And Powerful Art Teacher of Doom; For my boyfriend Ben

Wall for yakking to me constantly on the phone and distracting me whilst attempting to write; My

dad for the gracious use of his computer; Brian, my Muse for obvious reasond; Wonder Woman 1288 and GammaXmen for internet conversations and support; Noah for long, involved conversations about the DCU; Everyone who emailed me and all of my reviewers; and the musical talents (or lack thereof) of Teada, The October Project, Christy Moore, and The Sallymacs.


	9. Part 9

Authors' notes: Whoo. Here it is, finally. My apologies to Aquaman fans: I've never really liked him and I needed a voice of contention. Urmmm...once again I have a reeealy late update, but Y'all probably expect that by now. I'm very sorry. Please don't kill me, I've been obsessing over some other things lately. Anyways I don't own the DCU. Other people do, and they are very nice.

Chapter Nine

Bruce sat at the huge, round stone table that took up much of the Council Chamber in Caer Wayne. Modeled after the ancient tales of King Arthur, the shape of the table was intended to give an impression that all who sat at it were equal, but to the King of Gotham, it had a second, equally important use. He had a very good view of everyone at it; hed know of any attack well before it happened.

At the moment, many of the seats were taken up by his nobles, who were most of them in various stages of arguing with each other. The King sighed. The meeting had, he supposed, begun well enough. But soon, civil conversations degenerated into contests on who could shout the loudest; opinions were shot own before they could even be properly discussed, and many were not even given the chance to present their before being overpowered by those of higher rank, or those who were simply louder.

Generally, he did not interrupt meetings; as the King he had the final say in the matter regardless, but he usually wanted to hear everyone's thoughts before he made a decision.

Usually, however, things were nowhere near this unruly.

In fact, as far as he could tell, almost the only person in the room who had said nothing so far, was Diana. She simply sat, listening, her lips pursed into a thin, white line. He wondered if having her in the room was the reason for the uncharacteristic chaos of the Council. Whatever the reason, he didn't care. He had let this go on for too long anyway.

And the King had had enough.

Bruce stood up and slammed one of his fists down on the wooden table.

"I _will_ have silence!" He shouted. Almost immediately, the noise died down. All eyes turned his way and he met them, glare for glare.

"Now," the King said, "This will be discussed in a calm, rational manner, or it will not be discussed. Is that clear?"

"I still don't see why it is being discussed in the first place!" Someone shouted. Bruce slowly turned to meet the eyes of Orin, Lord of Atlantis, One of Gotham's coastal provinces, but Orin continued, undaunted. "Treverus was neither popular nor strategically important. If he was killed, it was his own fault for not defending himself. Let the issue of his death rest.

There was a quiet murmur of agreement from a few nobles, but most in the room looked outraged at thus statement.

Bruce saw, from the corner of his eye, Diana's eyes narrow in rage, but luckily Kal spoke up before she could react to the statement of the Atlantean Lord.

"So we should simply ignore it?" Kal 's voice was hard. "The Amazons came here, invaded _our_ country, killed one of _our _nobles, and we are supposed so simply let them believe that we will do nothing about it? Where is your sense of honor, Orin?"

Orin bristled visibly and started to stand, but the King stopped him with a look.

"Lord Kal-el is right." Bruce said firmly. "We must not let this blatant disregard for the laws of our land go unchecked and unchallenged. Whether or not we would react was never in question, my Lords, but _how_ we would react."

"And just how, my King, do you expect us to get to the isle of the Amazons?" Orin continued, determined, it seemed, to be a vexation to all at the gathering. "It cannot be found! All men know this."

"I can find it." Diana's voice was low, but pitched to carry. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to look in her direction. Diana met them, unflinchingly. "I grew up there," She continued, undaunted. "I know how to find it."

"And why should we trust you, _woman_?" Orinsneered. "You lied to us all this time, and now suddenly you expect us to be dependent on you to navigate us across an ocean to slay your own people?"

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek to keep from responding to the Atlantean Lord's condescension. It wouldn't do to have the King taking sides this early in the argument. Fortunately, his had no such compunctions.

"Orin..." Kal's warning growl was low and menacing, but Diana interrupted him.

"Kal, don't." She looked around the room. "Lord Orin is not wrong, save when he refers to the Amazons as 'my people'" She said decisively, meeting the eyes of all assembled, one by one. "I no longer consider myself an Amazon. But I did lie to you, and you are justified in hesitating to trust me." She sighed, "But unfortunately you have little choice. I am the only one who can get you there, and I want revenge on the Amazons as much as you do."

She looked around, took a breath, then continued. "He was my husband. I loved him, and the Amazons took him from me. I have as much right as any of you do to claim vengeance, and more reason. So with or without your help, I will exact retribution. The question to me was never whether or not I would avenge my husband, but whether any would stand with me while I did so."

Once more, she met every set of eyes in the room, before finishing, in a soft but strong voice. "Who _will _stand with me?"

Bruce stared at Diana, admiring the way she had taken control of the proceedings, appealing to the honor of every man in the room, addressing them as one of their own, not as an Amazon; invoking the right of vengeance for a dead loved one, something every man in the room could understand.

Kal stood up immediately. "_I _will stand with you." He declared.

Another noble, Sir J'onn, steward of the H'ronmeer holdings rose. "I, too, will stand with you."

The King was intrigued by this . J'onn was a difficult man to read, though he seemed to generally have great insight into what others were thinking and feeling. He was trusted by many; his support of Diana boded well for her cause.

Bruce stood up "And I." He said. Let his nobles think it was because of J'onn's endorsement, but the truth was he would have gone with her anyway. He didn't let himself think about why.

One by one, every noble in the room rose and pledged to go with Diana, until finally only Orin was left sitting with all eyes trained on him. At last, grudgingly, Orin stood.

"I will go." He said grudgingly, "But I will not be blamed when this ends in disaster."

"Your support is appreciated," The King replied with the barest hint of sarcasm hidden in his voice. Then he looked around.

"If we are all in agreement, we will sail in a fortnight."

When no one objected, the King inclined his head towards Diana.

"Meeting adjourned."

One by one, each nobleman bowed to him and filed out, until only he and Diana were left.

Diana looked up at the King. He continued staring at her, his face calm and unreadable.

"Do you need something?" He asked at last.

Diana started, slightly. She stared at him for a moment, trying to decide what, if anything, to say to him. In the end, she just bowed.

"No, your Highness." She said and left.

((Two weeks later...))

It was late in the evening and Diana stared out of her window onto the Gotham Harbor. The largest ship in the Royal fleet, The Watchtower, was ready to depart from the Gotham coast. The past two weeks had been spent in a flurry of activity: storing supplies and foodstuffs, arming men, and, for her at least, avoiding the King.

Not that it was hard, really, she thought with a touch of bitterness, quickly suppressed. After all, it wasn't as though he sought her out. On the occasions when they were in the same room (when they were discussing battle plans or planning the voyage or learning the terrain of Themyscira) he did not speak to her if he could help it, and when he could not he was as brusque as he could be without being impolite.

Diana rested her cheek in her hand. She couldn't really blame him. She was the one who had rejected him, after all. Not because she didn't want him, far from it. But she didn't deserve him because of what she planned to do.

Immediately she brought her thoughts away from that. She wouldn't think about it, not yet at any rate. It would be dealt with it when the time came, not before. Brooding on it now would only weaken her resolve, and that she could not afford.

These and other petty platitudes flitted through her mind as she turned and walked across and out of her chambers. They seemed suffocating, very suddenly.

The night was clear and cold, and the stars glittered. The King trudged along the castle wall staring into the darkness. He wished she could sleep, but he'd had enough practice going without it that it was no great concern.

The Watchtower would set sail at dawn the next day. He would be commanding the armies, over Kal's strenuous objections. If Diana had an opinion on it, she had not shared it with him.

Diana...there was a subject that had kept him sleepless for more than one night. He had never felt for another woman quite what he felt for her. Their steady mutual friendship had crashed into deep, hot desire with a tiny amount of what could be love. In some ways he blamed himself that she had rejected him after their first lovemaking. It had happened far too quickly and abruptly and he had been the one to initiate it.

That thought made him stop his steady stride for a moment and moodily reflect on it. It wasn't like him to initiate anything without a careful plan of action well thought out beforehand: the fact that she could throw him off balance so much and so hard was something he was unused to. It was worrisome that she could affect him in a way no other woman had. Belike it was because she was strong and intelligent and beautiful all at once that made her so unusual, so desirable.

He wasn't foolish enough to believe that she was anything but one of the most dangerous people he knew, not after she had hidden her identity from _him_ so well and for so long, and certainly not after she'd seen her husband and child die, hardened herself to it and set out to get revenge on her own people. She was a woman worth pursuing, but she was hiding something, still keeping secrets and though he trusted her instinctively, he didn't know how to get close to her.

He stopped once more and stared out over the wall, out at the harbor where the Watchtower waited, sails furled, ready to sail to the Island of the Amazons. Once more he reflected on Diana, then sighed. It was not the first, but certainly one of the only times that the King of Gotham, called The Bat, did not have a plan of action.


End file.
